Protecting the Dead
by IMTheresa
Summary: Still hurting over their father's death, Sam and Dean encounter something that makes them face their feelings.
1. Chapter 1

**Protecting the Dead**

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Supernatural except some really cool merchandise.

A/N: This takes place sometime after _Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things_ and _Croatoan_. It will probably be posted in three chapters.

oooOOOooo

It is not the experience of today that drives us mad; it is remorse or bitterness for something which happened yesterday and the dread of what tomorrow may bring – Anonymous

oooOOOooo

"Sam! Behind you!"

At the sound of his brother's panicked cry, Sam Winchester whirled around, barely taking time to aim the shotgun before he fired the rock salt. The spirit screeched and lashed out at him before it disintegrated.

Dean ran toward Sam and quickly examined the new scratch on his face. "Come on, let's finish this and get the hell out of here."

They were in the cemetery digging up the grave of the spirit that had just attacked Sam so they could salt and burn the bones. Its death happened in a one-car accident several years ago and had been terrorizing motorists along the same road every since.

The brothers went back to the grave and Dean jumped back into the five feet deep hole. He shook his head when Sam picked up a shovel. "Keep an eye out for that ghost."

"Dean –"

"I've got this, Sam," Dean insisted as he started to dig. "If that thing comes back again and we don't see it coming, we're done for. It's beyond pissed. It's a good thing you noticed the rifle was out of reach and got out of the grave to get it or we'd probably already be toast."

"Fine. Just hurry," Sam growled. He knew Dean was right about needing to know if the ghost was coming for them again, but he hated being on the sidelines. He appreciated his brother's constant concern, but sometimes it could be irritating.

After exposing the coffin, Dean broke through the rotten wood to get to the skeleton inside. He climbed out of the grave and Sam sprayed lighter fluid on the bones while Dean lit the match. He held it out in front of him and gazed at it for a moment before dropping into the coffin. They heard the screeching of the ghost as it raced toward them, but it didn't have time to reach them before the fire sufficiently consumed its bones.

The brothers quickly filled in the hole then carried their gear back to the Impala, which they'd left parked on the edge of the cemetery. Dean rested his head on the back of the seat, his eyes closed, as Sam slid into the car beside him.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dean opened his eyes and turned the key in the ignition.

They'd planned to leave town as soon as the job was over and had taken all of their things from the motel when they left for the cemetery. Dean headed out of town, but stopped at the first rest area they reached to clean up the scratch on Sam's face. Not knowing what exactly had caused it, Dean was concerned about an infection.

---

Dean leaned against one of the sinks in the bathroom, his arms crossed, watching Sam as he washed the cut and applied an antibiotic cream. They were both glad it wasn't deep enough for stitches. Dean could handle it, but their supplies were basic. They didn't have a variety of needles and sutures at their disposal and more than likely, Sam would have ended up with a scar if Dean had to stitch up his face. Hospitals were always a last resort.

When Sam was finished, Dean held his brother's chin and looked at the cut again. He grinned when Sam pulled away.

"I saw a sign for a McDonald's at the next exit," Sam said as they walked back to the car. "Why don't we get some coffee before we disappear onto the back roads?"

"Good idea."

oooOOOooo

The brothers traveled in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts and sipping at the coffee. Dean found a classic rock station on the radio and set the volume fairly low so it would be easier for Sam to fall asleep if he felt like it.

It was nice to have a simple job once in a while. Things had been so hard since their father died; the jobs they came across were complicated and Dean just felt so tired. He was having a hard time dealing with the secret their father left him with before he died…or was taken by the demon. Dean didn't know the details, but he was pretty sure there had been some deal between them and he didn't know how to handle that.

So, this uncomplicated job had been a relief and he hadn't had to pretend too much that he was having a good time. He just hoped the next job would go as well.

After a couple of hours on the road, Dean glanced at his brother. Sam's head was resting against the window of the door and his eyes were closed. He couldn't help but smile. In the nearly two years since Dean had come for him at Stanford, Sam had been through quite a bit. The death of his girlfriend at the hand of the same thing that killed their mother, being sucked back into a life he'd detested, the visions starting….Dean liked seeing him relaxed, even if it was in the car.

He reached for the radio volume control and turned it down a little more, then settled back into the seat.

---

Dean drove until just after 1:00 in the afternoon and Sam slept until the Impala's engine was quiet.

"Where are we?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"Portage, Wisconsin. I'm gonna see if I can get us a room," Dean said. "I'll be right back."

Sam watched as his brother walked to the motel office. He looked at his watch, surprised to see so much time had passed. He felt bad for leaving Dean alone; his brother must have been just as tired, but yet he'd driven for hours.

"You hungry?" Sam asked when Dean got back into the car.

"I'm too tired to be hungry."

"I'll find us something and bring it back. You can take a shower and relax."

Dean handed Sam one of the keys to the room. "We're in six; at the end of the building."

"I won't be long."

---

Inside the room, Dean dropped his duffle bag next to the bed that was closet to the door. Ever since they were small, no matter where they were, Dean would take the bed closest to the door. If anything was going to come in, it would have to go through him to get to his brother.

He took in his surroundings; it was pretty much the same as every other motel room. There were two beds with ugly bedspreads and tacky pictures hung on the wall, but at least they hid some of the puke green paint. Dean sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. He rubbed his face tiredly and considered just crawling under the covers and going to sleep, but the room was cold and he decided to turn up the heat and take a shower first.

Standing under the hot water, Dean couldn't help thinking about things. There was a time, not too long ago even, when he was excited after a job was done. No matter how hard or easy it had been to kill the evil creature, he was always ready to celebrate when it was over. These days, especially now, it was all he could do to stand upright.

He knew part of it this afternoon was that he'd been awake for nearly 24 hours, but he also knew the real truth. His heart wasn't in the hunt anymore; not since his father's death and the warning about Sam. If he couldn't save him, Dean would have to kill his brother…. Dean shook his head to clear the thoughts and finished the shower. He was in sweats and a t-shirt when Sam returned with soft drinks and burgers from a diner down the street.

They sat at a small round table that had full view of the television. The motel provided HBO and there was an action movie on they'd both seen more than once, but it was at least a distraction. They ate in a comfortable silence, but Dean noticed that Sam looked at him from the corner of his eye more than once. He knew that Sam was worried about him. They'd had the conversation more than once where Dean insisted he was fine and Sam begged him to let him help. It always ended up in an argument and neither one was in the mood to fight today.

"Thanks for getting the food," Dean said after he'd swallowed the last of the burger.

"No problem. You gonna get some sleep now?"

"Yeah, I guess so. What are you going to do?"

"There's a laundry place down the street. I'll wash our stuff while you sleep."

Dean glanced at him, then sat back and sighed. "I know what you're doing."

"What do you mean?"

Dean heard the innocent tone of his brother's voice, but suspected it was an act. "Sam, I'm fine, okay? It's no big deal that you fell asleep in the car. I drove until I was too tired and then stopped. I appreciate you going out to get the food, but you don't have to punish yourself with chores."

"It's not that," Sam said quietly, his eyes pointed at the table. "Exactly."

"What is it then? Exactly."

Sam shrugged and wiped at imaginary crumbs.

"Sam, I'm too tired for this. If you want to do the laundry, knock yourself out, but don't think you _have_ to do it."

Sam nodded.

---

As Dean settled into bed, Sam gathered their dirty clothes and his laptop then headed for the Impala.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean called as his brother opened the motel room door. Sam turned to look at him. "I….Maybe we'll go out later, okay?"

Sam nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

---

While the clothes were washing and drying, Sam worked on his laptop. He was surprised to get a wireless signal and after he was connected, he started surfing news stories and looking for a new gig. He glanced up as a young woman walked in a little while later, but he didn't have any interest in talking to her. She was pretty and blonde; Sam had no doubt if his brother was there, Dean definitely would have hit on her. At least he would under normal circumstances. Sam had noticed that Dean spent a lot less time flirting with random women since their father's death than before and he wondered what it meant.

After his thoughts turned to his brother, Sam had a hard time shifting them to something else. He was worried about Dean and he didn't know what to do about it. It wasn't that he was handling their father's death particularly well, but Sam wasn't tail-spinning like his brother was. Sam had hoped that something good might come from their father's death, that maybe it would make them even closer, but instead it seemed to be driving a wedge between them.

Sam put the last load of clothes into the dryer and stretched. He folded what had just been dried and put it into the bag, glancing around the room. He was alone again; the woman that had come in left as soon as she put her clothes into a washer. After a few minutes of watching the clothes tumble in the dryer, Sam started to pace. He looked at the computer he'd left on a nearby chair and half-heartedly went back to searching the news stories.

For a while after their father's death, Dean had been dangerous. He'd craved the hunt, needing the violence of a kill. But now he was subdued and just seemed to be going through the motions. They'd almost traded places because it was now Sam who vigorously pursued the hunts, trying to do what their father would have wanted.

Of course, Dean called him on that and they'd ended up having yet another argument; something they did often these days. Dean had told him what he was doing was too little, too late. Sam agreed with him, but he didn't know what else to do. He felt guilty for all the fights he and their father had. He felt guilty for going away to school. He felt guilty for just about everything having to do with their father. And Sam missed him. He missed him so much that there was a physical pain and he knew that Dean must feel it, too.

Sam set the laptop aside again and stretched out on the old, plastic chair. He stared out of the window in front of him, not really seeing what was outside. He was thinking about his brother, their father and what was next for him and Dean. They still had to find the yellow-eyed demon and figure out how to kill it. They still had people to help. Sam knew he was where he belonged; at least for now. Some day maybe he could try having a normal life again, but when he did, he wouldn't have to run away from the hunt and Dean would remain a part of his life.

The dryer buzzer sounded a few minutes later and interrupted his thoughts. Sam packed up his computer and folded the last of the clothes. Once they'd been added to the duffle bag, he headed back out to the Impala and looked at his watch. He'd been gone for just over two hours, taking longer than he had to. He could have used more than one machine at a time and gotten the job done faster, but he wanted to give Dean time to sleep in peace. At least as much peace as his brother ever had.

Sam didn't immediately go back to the motel. He drove around town and found a strip mall with a large bookstore. He spent the next hour looking around, but decided not to buy anything. Dean was still asleep when Sam got back to the room, but he shifted as the door closed. Sam watched him for a few minutes, then set up the laptop and went to work.

---

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," Sam grinned when Dean finally opened his eyes.

Dean grunted. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven."

"Shit. Why'd you let me sleep so long?"

"You obviously needed it."

Dean grunted again, then got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. When he came out a few minutes later, he joined his brother at the old table situated in front of the room's only window.

"What have you been doing?"

Sam nodded toward the computer. "Looking for a new job. Clothes are clean."

"Oh. Yeah. Thanks for taking care of that."

"No problem."

"So, you find anything?"

"Maybe. You hungry? We can talk about it over dinner somewhere."

Dean shrugged. "Okay."

---

The brothers ended up at a bar down the street. They found a table near the back and ordered beer and a plate of nachos from the young blonde waitress. Dean didn't even make eye contact with her.

"Looks like there are a couple of decent pool tables back there," Sam noticed.

"Yeah, I saw that when we came in."

"You gonna get into a game?"

Dean looked at his brother, trying to figure out what was going on in his head. "I don't know."

Sam slumped in his chair, not sure what to say next. Dean glanced around the room.

"So," he said after a few moments. "Tell me about the job you found."

"I'm not sure if it is a job," Sam said, clearly thankful for a safe subject. "But there's a town in Illinois where a lot of kids have died and there have been a large number of miscarriages recently. I found a few news stories about the deaths and didn't think much of it until I found a series of articles about the kids. There are a lot of questions, but no answers."

"And you think this is our kind of job, why?"

Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure it is. I also found some stuff about people seeing things in one of the cemeteries in town."

"Things?"

"Reports of seeing corpses brought back to life."

Dean glanced at the waitress when she dropped off their order, but he didn't return her smile.

"Corpses brought back to life?" Dean repeated once they were alone again.

Sam nodded. "I don't know how credible the reports are, but…."

Dean didn't want to start another job; especially one involving reanimated corpses. He just wanted to find somewhere safe and hole up with his brother until he could figure out what to do about the secret their father shared with him. He'd never wanted to hide before, but finding out that he might have to kill Sam….it was unacceptable. He couldn't imagine his brother becoming something evil, but he didn't know what to do if it happened.

"How have they died?" Dean forced himself back to the conversation.

He saw Sam's expression darken. "They've been torn to pieces."

"Jesus, Sammy."

The younger man looked apologetic.

"And you don't think this is just some human monster?"

"I don't know."

"How many kids?" Dean asked quietly.

"The newspaper says five have been identified for sure, but there are a few more missing."

Dean took a long draw from his beer. "Torn to pieces?"

Sam nodded.

"Where do you find this stuff?" Dean asked, not really expecting an answer.

---

After a couple more beers, Dean's mood lightened. They finished the plate of nachos while talking about the potential job along with other topics. A third beer in his hand, Dean headed off to the pool table. He got invited to join the game and an hour late he was up by over $200.

Apparently bored with the game late, Dean started to work the room. As Sam watched, he flirted and collected phone numbers, but something was off. Sam knew his brother better than anyone else and he knew that Dean wasn't really enjoying himself; he was just doing what he thought Sam expected him to do.

Sam worried when Dean switched from beer to shots and decided to intervene rather quickly. Dean was already pretty drunk and the last thing either of them needed to deal with in the morning was a hangover.

"You ready to head out?" Sam asked when he approached his brother at the bar. He'd just thrown back another shot of something that could have been whiskey.

"It's still early," Dean protested, his words slurring slightly. "I can walk back to the motel if you're ready to call it a night."

Sam looked at him. Normally he didn't mind leaving Dean alone in a bar, but lately his brother had been so volatile that he was nervous whenever Dean was out of his sight.

"If you want to get an early start in the morning, we should get some sleep."

"You're such a party pooper," Dean laughed.

As if the slurred words weren't enough of an indication that Dean was drunk, his use of the phrase _party pooper_ certainly was. Sam sighed inwardly. It wasn't that he minded staying out later, though his preference would have been to leave at least a couple of hours ago, but he knew Dean would be hurting tomorrow and he wanted to avoid as much of the hangover as he could.

"Why don't you leave with me now," Sam suggested, hoping Dean wouldn't react angrily.

"Okay," Dean said. "I'm gonna hit the head first."

Sam watched his brother's unsteady gait for only a moment before he decided to follow him. He waited outside the men's room and Dean said nothing about it when he came out a few minutes later.

oooOOOooo

Sam was awake early the next morning and made coffee in the room, trying to be as quiet as he could. He had no intention of waking Dean up. The only reason he'd even mentioned getting an early start the night before is that he thought that was the only way to get him out of the bar.

Sam took a few sips of coffee as he stared out of the window. Their room had a decent view of a nearby park and there were already joggers out on the path. He realized it had been a while since he'd been for a jog. He and Dean had to be in good shape to do what they did and they worked out several times a week. He made a mental note to get a new pair of jogging shoes, then took the coffee to the table and booted up the laptop.

Keeping an eye on his brother, Sam went back through the information he'd found the day before and organized it. As far as he could tell, he was the only one who suspected a connection between the miscarriages and the deaths of the children. He wrote down a couple of phone numbers, then took his cell phone outside to the parking lot. Leaning against the Impala, he made phone calls and made more notes.

When Sam went back into the room, he heard the shower running. For no particular reason he glanced at the bed his brother had slept in. There was nothing out of place, not that he expected there to be.

"Hey," Sam said when Dean joined him a few minutes later. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

He noticed how slowly Dean moved as he dressed and Sam poured a cup of coffee while his brother eased himself onto the edge of the bed. He grunted in thanks when Sam handed him the coffee.

"I saw you on the phone outside," Dean said a few minutes later. With a little caffeine in him, he was already sounding better.

"Yeah, I was talking to the police and reporters in Ridgeville," Sam said of the Illinois town where the children had been killed. "Not surprisingly, the cops weren't too cooperative, but the reporters were pretty chatty. Especially the one who did the feature on the killings. He didn't have much more information than was in the paper, but he's still looking into things. Of course the prevailing thought is that it's a serial killer."

Dean rubbed his forehead, but Sam knew better than to coddle him.

"I also called the hospital – there are actually two in town, but one isn't much more than a clinic. I'm going to try to hack into their records because I didn't get much out of the administrator." Sam paused when Dean dropped the empty coffee cup onto the floor. "Dean?"

"You really think there's a connection between a few kids being killed and miscarriages?"

Sam hesitated. "I don't know. It seems odd, though, doesn't it?"

"I guess so. Let's say there is a connection. What do you think caused both things?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted.

"And you don't think some messed up person killed the kids?"

"It's possible," Sam leaned forward. "But I don't think so. The kids all lived in the same neighborhood –"

"Could be some sick fuck working his way through the town."

Sam nodded. "I know. The neighborhood borders a cemetery."

"A cemetery?"

"Might be just a coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidences. Especially not when there's a cemetery involved. Not to mention reanimated corpses," Dean grimaced. "When are things going to realize that what's dead should stay dead?"

"You know," Sam began as he took in his brother's ashen skin tone and the dark circles under his eyes. "There's a lot more research to do and I can probably do a lot of it from here. Why don't we stay another day or two and –"

Dean looked at him, his eyebrows raised. "And what, Sam?"

"Come on, man. You drank a lot last night and I can see you're hurting. Why don't you go back to bed for a while?"

"I'm fine." Dean's tone was icy.

Sam sighed and glanced away for a moment. "You know what, Dean? I'm tired. I'm tired of trying to help you. If you want to be a martyr, be my guest. You want to be in the car all day? Fine! Let's do it. Let's go."

Their eyes locked and neither brother was willing to look away.

"Who said I wanted your help?" Dean growled.

"You never want my help. You're the great Dean Winchester. You can handle anything. You don't need anyone." Sam stood up and headed toward the door.

"Sam."

The younger man didn't pause. He opened the door and slammed it hard behind him.

---

Dean flinched at the noise and pain exploded in his head. He wanted to go after his brother, but when he stood up the room began to spin around him and he was forced back onto the bed. He yelled in frustration, but that only caused the pain in his head to increase. By the time he was able to make his way to the door, Sam was nowhere in sight.

It wasn't true. What Sam said about him not needing anyone, it wasn't true. He needed Sam. Dean also needed their father, but he was dead. More than dead, he'd probably traded himself for Dean's life. But before he did, their dad had shared a secret with his older son. A secret he wasn't supposed to share with his brother. It was eating him up inside and making him do stupid things.

He went back for his cell phone, but seeing Sam's right next to it on the bedside table, he knew there was no point. He hesitated only a moment before taking his car keys from the table and heading for the Impala.

Dean only got as far as the motel room door. He put his hand on the doorknob and couldn't make himself open it again. He didn't want to _not _see his brother outside. Even the thought of Sam not being there when he opened the door made Dean feel cold.

"Not again," he whispered.

---

Sam wanted to take back what he'd said. He wanted to take back the fight and most of all, he wanted to take back walking out on his brother. It was just all too reminiscent of how he left for Stanford. The fight with their father and then storming out of the dingy apartment they were living in at the time….All he wanted to do right now was go back to the room and fix what had just happened. He stood with his hand on the door knob, not able to make himself open it just yet.

After a moment, he pushed the door open as Dean pulled. They stared at each other, neither sure what to say.

"Bitch." There was a small sparkle in Dean's eye.

Sam's smiled was lopsided. "Jerk."

Dean backed out of the way as Sam walked into the room.

"Breakfast?"

Dean sat down on the bed. "I feel like shit, man."

"I don't doubt it. You were really throwing them back last night."

"Why don't we just get on the road?"

"Because you'll probably throw up in your car."

"Good point."

Sam sat down next to him. "What's going on, man?"

Dean said nothing.

"Why won't you talk to me, Dean?"

"I talk to you."

"About Dad."

"Aw, Sam. What's there to say? Dad is dead."

Sam looked forward and nodded. "I know that."

"You know how I feel," Dean said after a few minutes. "I told you when we left Lawrence the last time."

"I know that, too. But you're still acting erratic, Dean. You're still scaring me."

Dean looked at his brother. Normally there was nothing he wouldn't do for him, but he didn't have anything left for Sam. It took every bit of strength he had to get out of bed every day since their father died, let alone deal with the things they did….He didn't know what to do any more.

"Let's just do this job, Sam."

"We will, Dean, but –"

Dean stood up, struggling against the pain in his head and the nausea he felt.

"You drive," he said, taking his duffle bag and heading for the door.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**Protecting the Dead**

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed. This is the second of three chapters...I hope you like it! Please be sure to let me know what you think; I have low self-esteem, LOL.

oooOOOooo

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity – Gilda Radner

oooOOOooo

Sam drove toward Ridgeville as Dean slept in the seat next to him. He was still worried, but at least they were talking. Sort of. Finally, just before 2:00, Sam stopped at a family diner along the highway. Dean woke up when the sound of the engine died away.

"Where are we?" he asked, sitting up straight.

"A couple hours out of Ridgeville. I'm hungry."

Dean cleared his throat and looked out of the windshield toward the diner.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked.

"Too soon to tell, but nothing is moving that shouldn't be."

"That's a step in the right direction."

Inside, Dean went to the men's room while Sam sat at a booth near the windows. He ordered sodas for both of them and then booted up the laptop he'd carried in. When Dean slipped into his seat a few minutes later he looked like he was nearly recovered from the hangover.

"All work and no play, Sammy,"

Sam recognized his brother's attempt at humor and smiled obligatorily.

"I know there's a pattern, I just don't know what it is." Sam reached for the soda the waitress left and sighed. "Dad could spot a pattern when no one else could. I wish I was more like him."

Sam heard Dean snicker.

"Yeah, I know how that sounded," Sam said, not looking away from the computer.

"Tell me more about this job," Dean said. "What kind of pattern are you looking for?"

Sam shrugged and ran a hand over his shaggy hair. "I don't know. It makes sense the same thing is killing the kids, but the miscarriages….I just think they're related somehow."

"Go back to the question I asked before. What would – or could – do both things?"

"I don't know. I guess that's what I should start concentrating on."

"What about hacking into the hospital records?" Dean reminded him.

Sam nodded, clicking the laptop's mouse. "I'll do that once we're in town. It'll probably take a while and I don't want any interruptions."

"We'll get into town and get a room. You can do your thing with the computer and I'll look in the books, maybe give Bobby a call. God, I hate it when kids get involved."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

The waitress came with their food and Dean kicked Sam gently under the table. "Come on, dude. Put the geek box away and eat. You said you were hungry."

---

Dean took the keys from Sam when they left the diner and drove the rest of the way to Ridgeville. Before looking for a motel, they wandered through the neighborhood where the children had lived before being victimized. Nothing stood out in the normal looking middle class area, nothing looked out of place.

They next drove to the cemetery that bordered the neighborhood and Dean pulled into the parking lot. It was a weekday and there was a team of landscapers on the property mowing grass and trimming bushes. The brothers walked up to the nearest person, a man who appeared to be in his early twenties, and struck up a conversation. He talked to them about the dead children, but he didn't know anything that hadn't already been reported.

The next person who agreed to talk to them was in his sixties, wore a silver cross around his neck and spoke in hushed tones. He didn't know anything in particular about the dead children or the miscarriages, but he told them about something he'd seen in the cemetery on more than one occasion.

"Normally, we are gone by dark on the days we work here. This isn't our only contract," he explained in an accent neither brother could quite place. "I don't have any relatives buried here, so there's no reason for me to be here after dark. But one night I was here late. I'd left something behind and came back for it. It was just after dark and no one else was here. I heard noises, but I'm not a superstitious man; I'm a Christian."

"What kind of noises?" Sam asked, in his best caring tone. He could get just about anything from anyone with that tone, especially if the right facial expression went along with it.

"Odd, scraping noises. Like wind rustling through autumn leaves. But it was spring and there was no wind. I saw something, though. I thought I imagined it, but I've seen it again. Recently."

The brothers exchanged a look.

"What did you see?" Sam asked.

"It looked kind of like a bat. It was hanging in the trees over there," he nodded in the general direction of the trees that separated the cemetery from the neighborhood.

"Maybe it was just a bat," Dean suggested.

The old man looked at him. "I said it looked _kind of _like a bat. Besides, bats aren't usually found one at a time. There should have been a whole bunch of them. There was just one."

"What do you think it was?" Sam asked, casting his brother a warning glance.

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. And actually, I only saw it accidentally when my flashlight hit it. It kind of screeched – "

"Like a bat," Dean said.

"I'm telling you," the landscaper stared at him. "That was no bat."

Throwing his brother another warning glance, Sam turned his attention to the old man. "So you said it screeched?"

"That's the only word I can think of to describe it. I didn't give it enough time to do anything before I moved on. Once the light was off of it, the thing seemed to calm down."

Sam asked a few more questions, then the brothers went back to the Impala.

"Wonder what else the codger grows," Dean mused as they got into the car. He noticed his brother's thoughtful expression. "Don't tell me you believe that story. Dude, it was a bat."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. Something seems familiar. Let's find a room."

"Why, Sammy, what kind of a guy do you take me for?" Dean joked.

"Just start the car."

---

Once checked into a motel, Sam pulled their father's journal out of his duffle bag and started flipping through the pages. Dean looked around the room, noting the small refrigerator and microwave oven. He flopped onto the bed and turned on the television, changing the channels with the remote control until he found an action movie he'd seen several times before.

A few minutes later, Sam sat on the other bed and booted up the laptop. Dean knew that once in research mode, Sam wouldn't have a lot to say. He looked at his watch, deciding to give him no more than two hours before insisting they go out for something to eat.

Sam was almost at Dean's arbitrary time limit when he looked up and sighed.

"Find something?"

"No. Nothing much, anyway. I've got a couple of ideas, but nothing to talk about yet."

"Okay. How about we get out of here for a little while, then? You can start fresh in the morning."

"You didn't get enough pool and beer last night?"

"Come on, Sam. A little fun never killed anyone."

Dean wasn't sure how to read the expression on his brother's face. He decided it was more worry than anything else, but when Sam sighed, Dean knew he'd give in.

"Fine. But if you're hungover again tomorrow –"

"I won't be. We've got work to do, right?"

---

As it turned out, Dean wasn't able to finish more than one beer. He didn't want to give Sam anything else to worry about, though, so he didn't mention how bad he actually felt and spent most of the evening away from his brother. He won another couple of hundred dollars playing pool while Sam alternated between watching the other customers and reading the book he'd brought with him.

"You ready to hit it, Sam?" Dean asked later.

Sam glanced at his watch. "It's kind of early for you."

"We have work to do tomorrow," Dean countered and that really was part of the reason he was ready to call it a night before 10:00.

"Let's go," Sam agreed.

---

Back in the room, Sam booted up the laptop while Dean got ready for bed. He looked at Sam questioningly while crawling under the covers and the younger man shrugged. "I just want to check a couple of things."

Sam didn't do much more than bookmark a few website to read more fully the next day before he got ready for bed himself. He turned off the light and pulled the blanket up around his chest. He could tell by the sound of Dean's breathing that he wasn't asleep yet.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"About what you said before – that I was scaring you?"

"Yeah?" Sam said again.

"I'm sorry."

Even though the room was dark and Sam couldn't see the details of his brother's expression, he looked toward Dean's bed.

"Dean –"

"I know you've had to pull me back from the edge a few times since Dad died, but…."

"But what?" Sam whispered.

"It's still hard, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know. I miss him, too."

"I know ya do. I'm sorry, Sammy."

"Sorry for what?"

"It's my fault he's dead."

"No, it isn't."

"Come on, man. We talked about this."

"I never agreed with you. Dad did what he had to – he wanted you to live, Dean."

"It was my time to die. I was already on borrowed time."

"No!" Sam said more angrily than he intended. His tone softened. "Dean, don't say that."

Dean didn't say anything for so long that Sam thought he'd shut down, ending the conversation. "What about you, Sammy?"

"What do you mean?"

"At Bobby's you said you weren't okay. What about now?"

"I miss him. I feel guilty. I'm still not okay."

He heard Dean shift in bed. "Maybe I'm not either."

"Dean…."

"But I don't want you to be scared. I'm not going to do anything stupid. Well, not any more stupid than normal."

Sam couldn't help but laugh.

"Goodnight, Sammy."

"'Night, Dean."

oooOOOooo

Sam was up early the next morning and after making coffee, he settled in front of the computer. As it booted up, he thought about the conversation he and Dean had in the dark last night and wondered what his brother's mood would be when he woke up. It wasn't easy for Dean to open up about his feelings and there was a lot of pain and anger surrounding their father's death. Sam knew, not only from college psychology classes, but personal experience, that talking about pain made it less of a threat.

Dean's soft snoring ended abruptly an hour later and Sam knew he would be awake soon. He stood to pour coffee into the remaining mug and set it on the bedside table. He glanced at Dean when he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey. Coffee's next to you."

Dean yawned as Sam went back to the worn table across the room. He sat up with muttered thanks before taking a few sips of the coffee. "What time is it?"

"Still kind of early; just before 8:00."

"How long have you been up?"

"A while."

Dean looked at him. "Find anything?"

Sam noted his brother's somewhat pensive expression and suspected Dean was afraid that he would bring up their late-night conversation.

"Maybe," Sam ran a hand through his unruly hair. "That old man in the cemetery – I keep thinking there's something to what he said."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "A bat."

Sam conveyed his annoyance with a glare. "I don't think so."

Dean tossed the covers off and padded to the bathroom. When he returned, he sat across from Sam. "What do you think he saw, then?"

Sam turned the computer toward him. "This."

"And what the hell is that?" Dean asked, after looking at the picture on the screen.

"A vetala. It's from Hindu mythology."

Dean was clearly not impressed. "And you think something from Hindu mythology has taken up residence in Nowhere, Illinois?"

"Folklore says it can cause miscarriages," He continued when Dean looked at him. "And it kills children by ripping them apart. It can also inhabit and reanimate corpses."

"How _do_ you find this stuff?" Dean shook his head. "Okay. So, how do we get rid of it?"

"Supposedly it's created at death when its offspring doesn't perform the proper funerary rituals. All we need to do is –"

"Give it a funeral?"

Sam shrugged. "The right funeral."

"There's always a catch."

Sam turned the computer back around and clicked on another link on the page.

"I guess we need to find out who died around the same time this vetala thing started showing up. Any idea when that was?" Dean asked.

"We can figure it out based on the kids' disappearances, but it doesn't make sense that it was caused by an average Christian or Jew dying without the right funeral," Sam reasoned. "Maybe we can just perform a Hindu funeral."

"And just what do we do for a Hindu funeral?" Dean asked.

Sam scanned the website that had just loaded. "Cremation, for one thing, so it looks like we need to find the body, after all. The actual funeral rites start on the deathbed, but hopefully we can get around that. The oldest son has some responsibilities….everything changes if the person who died is a woman."

"Looks like you solved this one without even hacking into the hospital records."

Sam felt a momentary pang of regret that he chose to ignore.

oooOOOooo

While Dean showered, Sam went through his notes and narrowed down the timeframe for the vetala's appearance. He knew it was possible that it had been around longer than it had been causing problems, but he hoped that wasn't the case. On the other hand, he didn't think the small town had a large Hindu population and it probably still wouldn't be difficult to track the person down.

After dressing, Dean went to the diner next door for breakfast. While waiting for the order, he listened to the conversations around him. Most of the customers were older, the work crowd seemingly having already come and gone. When he heard what was being discussed, Dean added a newspaper to his order.

Back to the room, Dean found Sam at the computer again, his expression grim.

"Another kid was found."

"I know," Dean tossed the newspaper onto the table and unpacked the food he'd gotten. "Any luck finding our dead person?"

"I haven't found any Indians in town at all, living or dead. I guess it's possible it was someone who practiced Hindu and wasn't Indian." Sam reached for one of the Styrofoam containers of eggs. "Or I'm wrong about the vetala."

Dean opened the other container of eggs. "Everything fits."

"I guess."

"Think about it. A non-Indian who believes in Hindu….it makes sense the family wouldn't follow Hindu burial rites."

"Maybe."

"What about deaths in general just before the vetala started wreaking havoc?"

"There weren't many," Sam said before putting some of the scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"We'll just have to check them all out."

Sam said nothing.

"How is the thing getting to the kids?" Dean asked after a moment.

"They've been found in the woods that separate the neighborhood from the cemetery. The police have told the parents not to let their kids out there any more, but the latest one had been missing for a while."

"Hopefully it can't get into the houses. If the parents keep their kids inside…."

"We can't count on that, Dean. We have to figure this thing out."

---

There were only four deaths in the six month period before the children started to disappear and from what Sam could tell, none of them practiced the Hindu faith. He was frustrated, but not willing to give up on the vetala idea. Everything else fit too perfectly.

Using various aliases and cover stories, the brothers spent the afternoon talking to family and friends of the deceased. Their aggravation level increased with each conversation and by the end of the day, they'd found none who practiced the Hindu religion.

The brothers went back to the motel and Sam went to work on the computer again. Dean paced for a few minutes, then pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket. "How about I call Bobby and see if he has any information on this vetala thing?"

"Good idea," Sam agreed.

Bobby Singer had been a contact and occasional friend of their father's and since his death, had become somewhat of a surrogate parent. He never hid his concern for the brothers and welcomed them into his home whenever they needed some downtime. He was somewhat of a demon expert, and also had an extensive library and could find just all sorts of information.

Dean and Bobby spent a few minutes catching up, even though it hadn't been that long since they last spoke, and then Dean launched into details about their latest gig.

"Where the hell did Sam find a vetala of all things?" Bobby asked.

"Where does he find any of this stuff?" Dean countered and saw the annoyed look his brother flashed. "You've heard of it, then?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think they were real. But based on what I know of the folklore, sounds like that's what you've found. Any idea who died without the right funeral?"

"There weren't many deaths in town around the time we think the vetala showed up. We checked them all out; even talked to some of their friends and family. None practiced Hindu."

"What about neighboring towns? Just because it's shown up in that cemetery doesn't mean it was buried there. A vetala can animate a corpse and use it to move around."

"We thought of that, but if that's the case, it could have come from anywhere."

"That's true."

"Which means we might never find the person," Dean glanced at Sam. His brother's expression was grim.

"True again."

"So, what do we do?"

"Let me see if I can find someone to help you."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"You boys be careful."

"Always."

"Yeah, right," Bobby scoffed before hanging up.

Sam pushed the computer away as Dean tossed his cell phone onto the bed.

"What did Bobby say?"

Dean sat across from his brother at the table and recounted the short conversation he'd had with Bobby.

"I don't know what else to do," Sam ran a hand through his hair. "I wish…."

Dean sat back in his chair. "You wish what?"

"Nothing," Sam shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"You weren't going to say something about Dad, were you?"

Sam turned away, looking guilty.

"I've already apologized, Sam. If I could bring him back, I would."

"And if it meant I'd lose you, I'm glad you can't." Sam stood up and walked across the room. "God, I don't want to do this again."

"Sam, I…." Dean shook his head.

"I loved Dad, Dean. I did. I don't know exactly what happened, but I think we can both agree that it was of Dad's making. If I had to choose between the two of you, God forgive me, I'd choose you. And yeah, I was going to say I wish Dad was here, but that's because he could look through a ton of information and pick out the right stuff like no one else could. I don't want any more kids to die."

"Yeah, me neither," Dean agreed quietly.

Sam turned to face his brother, but Dean couldn't meet his eyes. He heard Sam sigh, then the sound of the door opening and closing.

"Damnit," he muttered to himself. Dean hesitated a few moments before following him.

Sam was leaning forward against the vending machine a few feet from their room. Dean watched him for a moment, then moved to stand next to him.

"Sam…."

The younger man stood up straight, but didn't turn around.

Dean stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. "I don't know what to say, Sammy."

Sam didn't respond.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Stop saying that," Sam whispered.

"Yeah, well, this time I'm sorry for over-reacting."

Sam turned and they stood still, staring at each other.

"You'd really choose me over Dad?" Dean asked a moment later, his voice quiet.

He saw Sam's eyes soften. "I loved Dad, but you're the one who has always been there for me. Dad knew he and I couldn't exist together without you. We would always be at each other's throats."

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

"Let's just figure this damn thing out, okay?" Sam suggested a few moments later.

---

The brothers went back to their room and went through all of the information Sam had gathered. They were tossing ideas back and forth when Dean's cell phone rang.

"Hey, Bobby," he answered after looking at the caller ID display. "You got something for us?"

"I'm sending someone your way who knows Hindu rituals. He should be there tomorrow. Have you found out anything else?"

"No. We've gone through everything again and the vetala thing fits. It just sucks that the bastard could have come from anywhere, though."

"Yeah, it does."

"I mean, how are we supposed to help it? It's pissed off because its kids messed up, but we can't fix it if we don't know who it started out as."

"Raahi said it can be placated with gifts and spells."

"That's the guy you're sending?"

"Yeah. He has your cell number and will call you when he's close."

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean ended the call and updated Sam.

The younger man stared at nothing in particular as he listened, looking thoughtful.

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know; nothing really."

"Uh huh. You've got something."

"No. Well, maybe. Okay, the vetala can use corpses to move around, but it just doesn't make sense to me that it would go that far out of its way to torment random people. I just think it came from around here somewhere," Sam reached for one of the piles of paper on the table. "Is there something all the kids have in common? Or the women who had miscarriages?"

They worked to put together profiles of the child victims and then went about trying to find commonalities. They didn't find anything.

"You know what," Dean began later. "It's getting late. Why don't we grab something to eat and get some sleep? Bobby's guy will be here tomorrow and maybe we can get this done without finding out who turned into the thing."

Sam didn't move.

"What is it?"

"I guess I just want to do more. Give the guy a real funeral. Is that too much to ask?"

Dean noted the unhappy tone to his brother's voice. "Sammy, this thing has killed kids."

"I know, but it's because its own children didn't do right by him. Or her." Sam shrugged.

Dean ran a hand over his face. He suspected Sam was thinking about their father again, but he wasn't up to another emotional conversation. Dean looked at his brother for a moment, then stood up and slipped into his coat.

"Come on. We'll get back to it in the morning."

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**Protecting the Dead**

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read up to this point, and especially to those kind enough to leave a comment. I appreciate knowing how the stories work for you. Or not, LOL. I hope you enjoy the final chapter.

I want to say that no disrespect to the Hindu people is intended. I did some research, but also took some creative license. I hope no one minds.

oooOOOooo

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that frightens us most - Jules Maryanne Williamson

oooOOOooo

Neither of the brothers slept well that night. Sam went from thinking about the case to their father and back to the case. Dean thought about Sam, their father and the secret he shared before he died.

Finally, just before 5:00, Sam sat up in bed. "I know you're awake."

"Back at ya, Sammy."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

"I do."

"I know," Dean threw off the blankets and headed to the bathroom. "Make coffee; I gotta pee."

After Sam took his turn in the bathroom, they settled at the table with coffee. Their posture was similar; slumped over just a bit, their hands wrapped around their mugs. Their eyes were cast downward.

"I want to find the person who died, Dean. I want to give him – or her – a proper funeral. Every parent deserves that."

"It won't help Dad, Sam. And we did right by him. We did what we had to do to keep him safe. As safe as we could, anyway."

"I know," Sam responded quietly.

Dean took a long sip of coffee and looked at his brother. Sam seemed to feel his gaze and looked up to meet Dean's eyes.

"Dad knows you didn't hate him, Sammy."

Tears sprang into the younger man's eyes and he looked away again.

"You gotta get past this, man. You can't let every job get personal."

"I just wish I could have told him...I wish I _would_ have told him."

"He knew."

Sam nodded, still facing away from Dean.

The older man sighed and sat back in his chair. "I told you that when you were at Stanford, Dad and I would swing by to check up on you."

Sam nodded again.

"Yeah, well, he used to talk about you, too. Not so much to me, but to Jim or Caleb….sometimes Bobby," Dean smirked. "When they weren't threatening to shoot each other."

"How do you know?" Sam asked, his voice quiet.

"I'd overhear sometimes; intentionally listen other times. Pastor Jim told him you were just like him – pigheaded and determined to do things your own way. Dad laughed and agreed with him."

Sam smiled, but there was still sadness in his eyes. "I never should have left."

Dean shrugged. "I don't know about that."

"What do you mean?"

"You did what you had to do. You knew what you wanted and you went for it."

"Yeah, and look what that got me."

"Would you rather have never met Jessica? Never loved her? Never been loved by her?"

"She'd still be alive."

"Maybe," Dean shrugged. "Maybe not. Look, if you hadn't left, you'd have just been angry and bitter. The fights between you and Dad would have gotten worse. He wanted you to stay because he was worried about you, but it looked more like he was trying to control you. If he'd handled things differently, everything might have been different. Better."

Sam looked at his brother, surprise evident on his face.

"Look, Sam, you just gotta trust me on this. Dad knows you didn't hate him."

The younger man nodded.

Dean leaned forward and wrapped his hands around his mug again. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Better, anyway." He looked at his brother. "What about you?"

"Sam, I'm not like you. I don't feel better after talking about stuff."

"You might if you let yourself."

"Sam…." Dean rubbed his face. "I'm okay. I miss Dad, but I'm okay."

"Then why are you so angry all the time now?"

"Because…." Dean saw the expectant look on his brother's face. "Just because I miss Dad."

Sam refilled their coffee cups. Dean hated lying to his brother; especially about something so big, but he had promised their father he wouldn't say anything. He missed their father and it made him sick that their dad probably made a deal with the same demon that took their mother, but what was really making him angry was the damn secret and what it might mean for both of them. He couldn't even comprehend his brother turning evil, but maybe having to kill him was just unthinkable.

oooOOOooo

Raahi , the man Bobby was sending to help the brothers, called Dean just before 9:00 and arrived in town two hours later. They all sat in a corner of the diner that was located near their motel and discussed their options in hushed tones. In addition to being an expert in Hindu rituals, he was well versed in folklore and knew about vetalas.

"When the vetala inhabits a body, it ceases to decay. If it takes over a recently dead body, conceivably it can move about without being discovered," Raahi explained. "But they don't tend to move too far from their homes. The vetala can be appeased with gifts or mantras, but the only way to really get rid of one is to perform the proper funeral and that requires cremating the body."

"Why do those without the correct funerals turn into vetalas?" Dean asked.

"Not all do, of course, but Hindus believe in reincarnation and without the proper rituals, the deceased will not go onto their next life."

"Maybe we just need to expand our search area," Sam said hopefully.

Raahi nodded. "But there is the possibility that the original body will never be found. In that case, we will have to settle for appeasing it."

Dean glanced at his brother and immediately suspected what was going through his head. Sam was thinking about their father again.

A few minutes later, the three left the diner to start on an expanded search. Raahi used his contacts in the Hindu community while Sam checked death records for neighboring towns online. Dean went back over the information they'd already gathered, hoping to spot something they'd missed before.

A couple of hours later, Sam groaned and pushed the computer away. Dean looked at him.

"What's wrong?"

"I haven't found anything helpful and it's just really frustrating."

"Yeah, I know."

"I hope Raahi has better luck."

Dean moved his eyes over the piles of paper around him and happened to notice a small headline in one of the newspapers. He picked it up and scanned the article.

"Shit."

"What?" Sam asked.

"We've been looking for someone who died. Maybe we should have been looking for someone who was missing."

"What do you mean?"

Dean showed him the newspaper. "Maybe our dead person is missing and no one knows he's dead."

"Damnit," Sam muttered as he read the article. A moment later he had accessed a law enforcement database and began to search through the missing person reports while Dean called Raahi.

The article that had caught Dean's eye was about a woman who had been found trapped in her car at the bottom of a ravine for three days before she was found. Miraculously, she only had minor injuries and was expected to recover fully.

"This might be it," Sam said as Dean ended his call to Raahi. "Hardik Bachchan. His son reported him missing just before the first kid was found killed. The family owns an Indian restaurant in Clearmont, about 45 miles from here."

"You have the police report?"

"I'm printing it now," Sam said as he scanned the information on his screen. "This has got to be it, Dean. He was reportedly coming to a restaurant supplier near here. His car was found on the side of the highway between the two towns, but no sign of him."

Dean took the pages from the small printer and began to read. "There was some blood found in the car; the cops assume it was his. There was no apparent damage to the car."

Sam nodded. "He wasn't seen at the restaurant supply place and his car was facing this way on the road. So, it looks like he never made it here."

"Let's start by talking to the restaurant supply employees since we're here and then we'll head off to Clearmont."

Sam nodded in agreement. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before."

"Don't do that," Dean warned as they started to clean up. "Don't blame yourself for not thinking of every possibility the second we hit town."

Sam said nothing.

---

Posing as FBI agents, the brothers confirmed that Hardik missed his appointment with the restaurant supply salesman. He'd been doing business with the supplier for years and the salesman had called Hardik's cell phone number when he was an hour overdue. There had been no answer. Hardik's wife called a few hours later and the police came the next morning to take a report.

With Raahi with them, the brothers next went to Clearmont to speak with Hardik's wife. They kept their cover as FBI agents, but Raahi did most of the talking. The family basically confirmed everything that had been in the police report.

Their next stop was the police station. They explained away their involvement with a vague story about a similar case in Wisconsin and were glad the sheriff wasn't overly suspicious of them.

"It's routine to investigate the family," the sheriff explained. "The restaurant started losing money a couple of years ago when Hardik began having some health problems and his brother took over the daily operations."

"Do you suspect the brother?" Sam asked.

"He has an alibi for the entire day that Hardik disappeared, but his life insurance would certainly help out the business. The wife and kids are beneficiaries of the insurance policy, but the business is also protected." The sheriff shrugged. "But the brother looks clean."

"What about the rest of the family?"

"It's just the wife and two sons. They're both in college out of state."

"What kind of health problem was Mr. Bachchan having?" Raahi asked.

"He was diagnosed with colon cancer. He underwent treatment and had improved enough recently to take back over some of the restaurant duties."

"Well," Sam said. "I don't think this is related to our case after all, but we may have a few more questions before we leave town."

The sheriff walked them to the door. "You know how to get in touch with me."

Over coffee at a restaurant down the street from the sheriff's office, the three men discussed their new information. It seemed the most likely suspect was Harkik's brother and they decided to focus their investigation on him. Before leaving town, they went to the Bachchan restaurant and spoke to Hardik's brother, Nirad.

Dean had a tendency to make snap judgments and had already made up his mind that Nirad was guilty. Nothing the man said during their meeting did anything to dissuade Dean's opinion, but Sam and Raahi also suspected he was somehow involved.

"We don't need to solve the case," Sam said on their way back to Ridgeville. "We need to find the body."

"That's true," Dean agreed. "But we might have to do one to do the other."

"Raahi," Sam asked from the back seat of the Impala. "Can the vetala communicate?"

"Yes. They've been known to enchant with their stories."

"What if we go to the cemetery tonight and try to communicate with it?"

"You mean just ask it who the killer is?" Dean asked.

"What's the harm?"

"It can drive a person mad," Raahi said. "It's very dangerous or I would have suggested it earlier."

"We have to do something," Sam insisted. "Before more people die."

Raahi sighed. "There are incantations involved. Gifts might be necessary. I'll make the arrangements."

oooOOOooo

The Winchesters and Raahi went to the cemetery after midnight. Raahi had gathered the items necessary for the ritual and they set up near the trees where the gardener had seen the bat-like creature. They set up as Raahi explained what he would be doing and how best to protect themselves.

As Raahi started the ceremony, the brothers were on high alert. They knew what to expect, but even so, it was a shock when the high-pitched screeching began and the vetala showed itself to them. Hanging upside down in a tree, it looked like a demonic elf, complete with pointed ears and its small eyes glowed red.

Dean positioned himself slightly in front of Sam and glanced at Raahi as he placed the symbol that would temporarily bind the vetala to its tree. Even though Hardik spoke English, communication with the creature could only be done in Sanskrit, the liturgical language of Hindu.

Although Raahi appeared calm, Dean felt himself getting more nervous as the ritual progressed and wished he could understand what was being said. At one point, the vetala seemed to become angry and Dean tensed. Through the creature's high-pitched speech, Dean could hear Sam's breathing behind him. He signaled to his brother, hoping to calm his nerves.

A moment later, there was a flash of light and the vetala freed itself from the tree; its movement too fast to track.

"What happened?" Dean demanded.

"I told you that the binding was only temporary," Raahi said as he quickly gathered his belongings. "We have to go."

The brothers helped him carry the items to the car and, as they planned, Dean drove away quickly.

"The vetala told me where to find Hardik's body, but didn't confirm that Nirad was the killer."

"So now what?" Sam asked.

"Let's make sure the body is where the vetala said it would be. Then we'll make an anonymous call to the sheriff's office," Dean said.

"Will it kill more people?" Sam asked, leaning forward in the backseat.

"I don't think so. It knows there are people trying to get Hardik to his family for a proper funeral. Hopefully the police will not wait very long before turning it over, though."

oooOOOooo

After the police found Hardik's body, they were able to build a case against Nirad and he was arrested a few days later. The following week, with no new child deaths or miscarriages, the Bachchan family had Hardik's body cremated in a traditional ceremony at a Hindu temple in Chicago. The brothers stood outside, looking through a large window, as Hardik's oldest son began the cremation. Though it had little similarity to the pyre that consumed John Winchester's body, Dean turned away.

"Dean…."

"I'll meet you back at the car."

Sam followed his brother to the parking lot and watched as he reached for the car door, then changed his mind and leaned against the car instead.

"What is it?" Sam asked as he stood close to Dean.

"I've been so pissed since Dad died…." Dean shook his head. "And I've been pushing you away."

"I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere, Dean."

The older man nodded. "I know. Even if you decided to go back to school…."

"We're still brothers. Nothing is going to get in the way of that again."

"I don't know what to do anymore, Sammy. I…."

"You what?"

Dean closed his eyes. "I just don't know what to do."

"You're doing it, Dean. We're helping people and trying to find the demon. That's all we can do."

"I guess."

"You know, I didn't know Dad as well as you did, but I bet he'd be proud of you."

"Sammy…." Dean whispered.

"I mean it, man."

"You think it ever stops hurting?" Dean asked after a moment.

Sam looked off into the distance. "Maybe not completely, but it gets better. It has to."

Dean stood straight and wiped a hand over his face. He looked at his brother. "You been taking care of that cut?"

Sam absently moved a hand to his face. "It's okay."

"It looks a little red."

"It's healing, Dean. Don't worry."

Dean nodded. "Let's get out of here. How about we head to Bobby's for a few days?"

"Sure."

There was a certain familiarity and comfort when they were with Bobby; he was one of the few people who could reminisce about their father with them and tell them stories about him that they didn't know.

They got into the car and Dean cranked up a Metallica tape before roaring out of the parking lot. Sam settled back in his seat and let his thoughts begin to wander. He wondered about Dean's question – would the pain of their father's death ever stop?

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You know one good thing about Dad dying is that he's probably with Mom."

"I don't know, Sammy. After everything, though, they deserve to be together."

Sam looked at his brother, happy to see a hopeful look on his face for the first time in a very long time.

_Fin_


End file.
